


they did the monster mash

by bodhirookes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dress shopping, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Light Feminization, M/M, Pretentious Film Students, Ryan Wears a Dress, Shane loses his gd mind, What's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookes/pseuds/bodhirookes
Summary: “I’m sorry, you want me to dowhat?”Shane, unconcerned by Ryan’s tone, repeats himself. “I said, I want you to go wedding dress shopping with me.”Ryan squints at him over his burrito. “Why?”“Why does anyone go shopping for anything? I need and/or want one.”“Jesus Christ—I get that you need to go shopping for a wedding dress, big guy. What I want to know is what you plan on using the dress for once you’ve obtained it.”Shane supplies: “It’s for that project I told you we’re doing in Horror in American Film. The alternate recreation one.”“Oh, yeah!” Ryan nods, remembering the project from when he took that class the previous year. “That’s what the wedding dress is for?”“Of course. The Bride of Frankenstein can’t become a bride without a wedding dress, you godless man.”Or, Shane convinces Ryan to go wedding dress shopping with him for a class project and fails to mention the bit where Ryan is supposed to try the dresses on as Andrew Ilnyckyj's placeholder. For science.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89
Collections: Secret Society





	they did the monster mash

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the most ridiculous thing i've ever written and i had the best time doing it lmao :P this was for the prompt of ryan and shane buying a wedding dress together and yall know i had to make this a fic full of utter nonsense. i hope you enjoy the tomfoolery within and the bullshit that would ensue if these two ever did go dress shopping together. also i feel like i wrote the lads super chaotic neutral this time and idk why but i'm rolling w it!! 
> 
> title comes from the classic and eternal "monster mash" by bobby "boris" pickett and the crypt-kickers bc i'm a freako

“I’m sorry, you want me to do _what?”_

Shane, unconcerned by Ryan’s tone, repeats himself. “I said, I want you to go wedding dress shopping with me.” 

Ryan squints at him over his burrito. “Why?” 

“Why does anyone go shopping for anything? I need and/or want one.” 

“Jesus Christ—I get that you need to go shopping for a wedding dress, big guy. What I want to know is what you plan on using the dress for once you’ve obtained it.” 

“You know, I didn’t want to have to do it like this, but you’ve left me with no choice.” They’re sitting under a tree on campus and eating lunch together, in between two of the Hot Shot Science Buildings. Shane, much to Ryan’s horror, sets his food down and then gets up onto one knee, clearing his throat loud enough to catch the attention of a few people walking by. “Ryan Steven Bergara, will you do me the honor of—” 

“Knock it off,” Ryan interrupts, choking on a piece of lettuce. He gives Shane a firm push to the chest, and Shane falls back onto his ass, laughing obnoxiously. “Answer my question without all of the theatrics, please. If you want me to come with you on this terrible errand, I suggest you keep me alive to do so.” 

Since he’s already sprawled out from being pushed, Shane continues to recline back until he’s propped up on his elbows like a fucking Versace model. Ryan, already feeling flustered from the fake proposal, feels his entire body go hot at the sight of it. He wonders if the dean will get mad at him for murdering a student on campus grounds. Or Sara. 

Cutting most of the bullshit, Shane supplies: “It’s for that project I told you we’re doing in Horror in American Film. The alternate recreation one.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Ryan nods, remembering the project from when he took that class the previous year. “That’s what the wedding dress is for?” 

“Of course. The Bride of Frankenstein can’t become a bride without a wedding dress, you godless man.”

Ryan would do pretty much anything Shane asked of him, no matter how obscene or humiliating, but he wants more before he agrees to this task, wants an extra bargaining chip before he sacrifices what he’s sure will become an entire evening of perusing a selection of wedding dresses. 

He says as much. “This sounds exciting and all, but I think I’m gonna need something else to convince me to spend my precious and valuable free time looking at wedding dresses. Why do you want me to go with you and not someone like Curly or Daysha, who actually care about fashion?” 

At this, Shane gives Ryan what can only be described as a grin of the lecherous sort. “Well, I wanted to have some fun during this recreation, and that fun may possibly come from sticking a certain someone in a wedding dress that makes the eyeballs bleed to gaze upon?” 

“And who is that?” Ryan asks, rapidly flipping through all of their friends, thinking of who Shane would potentially infuriate the most on this endeavor. “It better be someone good, dude.” 

“Why, who else could it be but one Andrew Ilnyckyj? We did convince one Steven Lim to play Frankenstein’s monster, after all!”

Because they are two bastards cut from the exact same cloth, Ryan forgets his previous discontent and grins back at Shane. 

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

**_~.~.~_ **

Ryan immensely regrets his words approximately three hours later, after their classes are done for the day and they’ve spent half an hour driving through traffic to get downtown to where all of the thrift stores are. The first store is a total bust, and the second one only has about five dresses in total and none that Shane is interested in, but the third store turns out to be the lucky winner. 

“There has to be a hundred dresses here,” Ryan marvels, staring at the endless wall of them. “How are we going to narrow it down?” 

Shane grabs hold of one of the dresses, a simple, satin thing, and pushes it away from him. “Easy. Anything that’s not bursting with lace, frills, ruffles, or sequins gets passed up. We’re going for a very retro vibe here.” 

Ryan takes a look at the dress closest to him. “You know, The Bride’s dress was actually very simple in that movie. It didn’t have any of the extra shit on it.” 

“Hence why it’s called an alternate recreation and not an exact replica. We’re meant to take some creative liberties with this project.” 

“And you consider making Andrew wear the ugliest wedding dress known to mankind a creative liberty.” 

“What else would you call it?” 

Ryan considers saying _The 128542th thing you’ve ever done to make me fall madly in love with you,_ but instead says: “Cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“Have you met Andrew Ilnyckyj?” 

“...That’s a fair point.” 

It takes them another half an hour to comb through the wall of wedding dresses and pick out ones that fit both Shane’s ‘image’ and Andrew’s rough size and build. When they meet back in the middle, after sifting through everything on their respective sides, Ryan has seven dresses and Shane has twelve. 

Ryan gawks openly at the bundle of satin and lace in Shane’s long arms. “You know, this really ruins the magic of _Say Yes to the Dress_ for me.” 

Shane winks. “Just wait until we have to go through the process of figuring out which one to buy.” 

“Where should we start?” 

“Let’s compare and get rid of the ones we both disagree on.” 

Ryan goes first, showing off each of the dresses he chose with Shane’s criteria in mind, and they eliminate three of the four. And then they go through Shane’s and eliminate six of his twelve, until they’re left with an even ten. 

“Okay,” Shane announces, “now onto Phase Two: getting a visual on each of the dresses.” 

“We just did that. All we need to do now is pick one out for Andrew and hope he fits into it.” 

“No, we’re going to need more than that. We need an actual visual of how each dress will look while Andrew is wearing and moving in them. For science.” 

“How do you propose we do that, seeing as how we didn’t bring Andrew along to do it himself?” Ryan inquires, completely exasperated. 

Shane stares down at him for a long moment, saying nothing. Ryan stares back, waiting and waiting for Shane to answer him and provide a very novel idea on how to accomplish this task they supposedly need to attend to. Shane stares, and Ryan stares back, and neither of them speak for nearly thirty seconds until it finally clicks in Ryan’s brain. 

“Oh, absolutely fucking not,” he starts, baring his teeth. “I am _not_ putting these dresses on, Shane Madej. No fucking way!” 

Shane replies, in a very calm and reasonable voice: “You’re nearly the same size as him. It just makes sense.” 

“I can’t believe you tricked me into coming wedding dress shopping for a pseudo prank on Andrew only to also be pranked along the way. What a crock of shit. We are no longer best friends, and you can take the bus home for your insolence.” 

This threat makes Shane pause, and then makes him break out his ultimate secret weapon, the one thing he can use to get Ryan to agree to any of his ridiculous shenanigans even in the most dire of situations. Ryan knows it’s coming before it even happens, but is helpless to do anything but stand and watch as Shane widens his sleepy eyes, softens his face, and asks, in a very quiet and pleading tone: 

“Please, Ry?” 

Ryan clenches and unclenches his jaw a few times, caught between being very much against the idea of struggling into a bunch of ancient, ridiculous wedding gowns and wanting to bend to Shane’s every whim. But, just as he knew he would agree to coming on this ridiculous journey today no matter what, he knows that he will agree to being the Andrew Ilnyckyj dress dummy, because whatever Shane wants, Ryan will do his best to follow through. 

He internally curses at the way his heart flips over when he sighs in defeat and Shane’s eyes light up, knowing he’s gotten his way once more. Ryan takes the mass of dresses from him and stomps over to the dressing rooms, grateful for the mostly-dead thrift store in this trying time.

“You owe me dinner after this, Spielberg.” 

“Whatever you’d like,” Shane trills, following after him. Ryan does not allow himself to turn around and get a good look at his handsome and smug face, no matter how badly he desires to. “I’ll get you a diamond ring, too.” 

Ryan creatively replies, “Shut up, Shane,” and can hear Shane’s responding laugh as he steps into one of the dressing rooms and closes the door behind him. 

When he pulls off his jacket and shirt, Ryan reminds himself over and over that this will all be worth it in the end. Reminds himself that no one but Shane will ever have to know he was the test run for the dress Andrew’s going to have to wear for an entire film production, reminds himself that he’ll get to witness the flustered express Steven will adopt when he sees Andrew’s get-up, get-up that is probably going to make him think about actually getting married to Andrew despite the dress’ ugliness or ridiculousness. 

And despite his bitching, Ryan _does_ want Shane and the others to get a good grade on their project, so he doubles down and picks through the dresses. Since Andrew is just slightly taller than he is, but has a leaner build, he judges each dress on how much of his legs it covers and how tight it is around his arms and shoulders. The first two that he tries on are way too small, even considering that Andrew has less muscle than he does; the third one swamps his frame, so it’ll definitely be too big for Andrew; the fourth one is too tight around the arms but the perfect length, and the fifth one is nice and loose around the arms, shoulders, and chest, but leaves an unappealing gap between the end of the dress and Ryan’s feet. 

The [seventh](https://justmewith.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/grace-kelly.jpg) one he struggles into fits much better—it’s semi-tight around the arms and almost completely covers Ryan’s feet, which means it’ll probably fit Andrew perfectly. When he gets a good look at himself in the floor-length mirror, Ryan’s first instinct is to grimace at the sheer, lacy turtleneck on the dress, and the faux pearl buttons that create a line from the center of his neck to the end of his ribcage. The dress has long sleeves, also filled with floral-patterned lace and pearls, and some odd bunches of ruffles and fake diamonds sewn into it. It’s an eyeful and would possibly be best described as _terribly gaudy,_ and Ryan’s first instinct is to shy away from the sight of himself in it. But then he notices how intricate the floral detailing in the lace is, and how the delicate pearl buttons accentuate the curve of his throat, and something shifts within him. The longer he looks at the dress, and the way it clings to his skin and brings out certain overlooked or unexciting features, the more he stops thinking: _This thing is an eyesore_ and starts thinking: _I look pretty in this._

A knock at the door startles him, and Ryan jerks his stare away from the mirror and to the source of the noise. 

“How’s it coming, buddy?” Shane asks, still sounding amused and fairly smug. “Anything fitting?” 

“Most of them are duds,” Ryan tells him; he glances down at the dress he’s wearing, at the way the sleeves gently circle around his wrist bones, and swallows. “But I think I found one that might work.” 

“Can I see it?” 

Ryan nearly says no, denies Shane of this one thing throughout their obnoxious task. He stops, though, and thinks about how unlike himself he feels, how he feels _pretty,_ and has a strong desire to show it off. He thinks about what Shane might say when he gets a good look at Ryan, is abruptly desperate for any type of compliment Shane can provide, and reaches out to grab the door handle. 

“Come up to the door so no one else can see but you.” 

He hears Shane comply, even as he says: “There’s no one else in here but us, man, just let me see—” 

Ryan swings the door open, revealing himself in the wedding dress, in all of its gaudy, frilly glory, and Shane’s words die in his mouth. Ryan sees his eyes widen, much different than when he purposely widened them to get his way, and sees them flit rapidly between the pearl buttons, the lacy sleeves fitted around his biceps, where the fabric of the dress cinches in at the waist, and back up to the buttons, where they start right at the base of his throat. 

“What do you think?” Ryan asks, trying for sarcasm but missing by many, many miles. “Is it frilly and lacy enough to be worthy of being married to Steven Lim in?” 

Shane meets his eyes, and then glances back in the general area of his collarbones. “It’s something.” 

Ryan ignores the way this particular type of attention makes him feel all hot and squirmy. “Regardless, I think it’s the one we should get. It’ll be long enough to cover Andrew’s legs and loose enough around the arms to let him move without ripping anything.” 

“I agree.” Shane gets one last fill of the dress, gaze lingering on Ryan’s hands and hips, and then he steps back. “All right, you can take it off now. Let’s go get food and scheme on how to make Steven lose his mind when he sees Andrew in it.” 

“You think he will?” Ryan asks, shuffling back into the dressing room. 

Just before he shuts the door, he hears Shane say: “If he looks anything like you do, Steven’s going to go into cardiac arrest,” and almost stumbles into the mirror. Ryan flushes all over at the implications behind that particular comment, and it makes it hard for him to take the dress back off—both because he’s now in Wonderland, remembering the scorch of Shane’s eyes on him, and because he doesn’t really _want_ to take the dress off. 

The decision is taken out of his hands a minute later when Ryan realizes that he can’t take the dress off, with or without the strong desire to keep it on. He’s trying to be careful of the paper-thin lace because there’s no way they’ll be able to repair it if it tears, but the method he’s using to take it off while being cautionate results in the dress getting tangled around his sternum and shoulders. 

Ryan lets himself stand and be stuck for a few beats, swearing under his breath. And then, knowing that there’s nothing else to be done, calls out: 

“Hey, Shane?” 

Shane, still right by the door, calls back: “Yeah?” 

“I think I’m stuck. I need some help here.” 

There’s an ungodly snort, and then the sound of the door creaking open. “Did it get stuck around your rock-solid, cantaloupe-sized, Olympian arm muscles, Sir Terminator?” 

“It’s about to get stuck around something if you don’t come and help me out, jackass.” 

Ryan hears the door click shut, effectively trapping the two of them inside of the dressing room, and hears Shane step up to him. Thankfully, he manages not to jump when Shane touches one hand to each of his sides, where the dress is bunched up near his chest, but he can’t quite disguise the shiver that bolts through him. 

Shane lets out a low whistle, gently pulling at the dress. “You done did good here, Bergara. How’d you even manage this?” 

Ryan sasses back: “I’m a man of many talents.” 

“I’m aware.” Shane starts working the bodice of the dress over Ryan’s head, also trying to be conscientious of the delicate lace. “I’m glad you asked for my assistance and didn’t try to strong-arm your way out of this one. It’s a good dress.” 

“Hence why I got stuck trying not to split it in two.” 

“You think you could do that with your muscles? While wearing it?” 

To be cheeky, Ryan admits, “It’s happened before.” 

“Hm.” is Shane’s reply to that, but it’s not a disinterested kind of ‘hm’, so Ryan voraciously holds onto hope. The sleeves are pulled free, and Shane is able to work the torso of the dress up behind Ryan’s head, but he still advises: “Don’t move your arms while I finish this. I need to push the rest of the dress up and I don’t want anything to get torn, okay?” 

“Roger roger.” 

Ryan holds his breath while Shane gathers the satin skirt and bunches it up near his waist, so that half of Ryan’s body is clad in his street clothes and half of his body is clad in this wedding dress he was coerced into trying on. The held breath leaves him in a sharp gasp when Shane slides his hands under the fabric of the dress, so that his palms are flattened against Ryan’s back, and drags them upwards to work the dress off of the remainder of his body. There’s no way he doesn’t hear the gasp, no way he can’t feel the way Ryan’s bare skin is breaking out into goosebumps where his hands are blazing a trail up to his shoulder blades. 

And there is no way that Ryan misses Shane’s unsteady breathing, standing this close to him, or how his fingers press into Ryan’s skin like he wants to touch for more reason than just helping him out of the dress. 

When Shane pulls the dress over his head, when he is finally free of it, Ryan blinks against the bright store lights and up at Shane’s face. It’s carefully neutral, but Ryan can see that his eyes have darkened, and that his lips look wet and bruised, like he was biting them while working the dress over Ryan’s body. He should look ridiculous, with a lacy, silky wedding dress from the 80s buddled against his chest, crowded into this dressing room with Ryan, but he doesn’t. He looks the way Ryan always imagined he would, if he ever got the chance to tell Shane he thinks about him all the time the way friends really, really shouldn’t: like he’s exactly where he wants to be, like he wants to eat Ryan alive. 

“Thanks,” Ryan eventually says, hating how breathless he still sounds. “That situation was quickly going from a pickle to a jam.” 

Shane’s eyes flit to Ryan’s chest and back in quick succession. “It still isn’t?” 

“Well, I’m not stuck in a dress anymore, am I? I’d count that as a step up.” 

“Figures, seeing as how you’d go shirtless everywhere every day if you could get away with it.” 

Ryan decides to test the limits of this precarious situation as subtly as he can manage right now. “It’s because I worked hard for this body. I know I look good.” 

Shane’s eyes darken further, and his voice sounds both rough and sweet when he teases: “Oh, just like you know you look good in this dress?” Ryan doesn’t say anything in response, just inhales and looks down at Shane’s wet, red mouth, watches as it stretches out into a smirk. “Yeah, you can’t fool me, Ryan. You were preening like a fucking pageant queen when you opened up that door to show me your dress.” 

“Andrew’s dress,” Ryan corrects. 

Shane pushes a finger into his chest, where his heart is skipping around inside of it. _“Your_ dress. He’s gonna wear it for a thirty minute film and never think about it again. You liked putting it on. You _loved_ how you looked in it. It’s your dress, Ry.” 

He wants to argue against this reasoning, but it’s the plain and simple truth, and Ryan has never been good at lying when it comes to Shane. He feels as though it would be a disservice to both of them if he tried to pretend like what is being said is a falsehood. 

So he tips his chin up and looks Shane right in his eyes and tells him: “Yeah, I did. I _loved_ putting it on. I _loved_ looking at myself in it. I want to do it again.” 

“I know,” Shane replies, the words scorching in much the same way his gaze and touch on Ryan’s bare skin were. The hand on his chest moves up, up, up until it’s loosely wrapped around Ryan’s neck, more of a pressure than a squeeze. “You looked really, really good in your dress.” 

Ryan, in a burst of his typical fight-or-flight bravery, decides that he’s going to dive head-first into whatever alternate universe he’s in where Shane not only reciprocates his feelings but is also being so obvious and forthcoming about them. Where out in the store, they’re two idiotic best friends on a mission to harass another one of their friends, and alone in this dressing room, Ryan is someone who likes to wear dresses and Shane is someone who likes to see him in dresses and then take him out of them. 

“Thank you,” Ryan professes, pushing his voice to be low and sweet like Shane’s. “I liked feeling good while wearing it. I liked feeling pretty.” 

“Pretty?” Shane presses his thumb into Ryan’s racing pulse, lets it tell him everything he needs to know, and then says: “Baby, you looked _beautiful_ in the dress.” And the only logical way to respond to a statement such as that, Ryan reasons with himself, is to pull Shane down into a kiss by the lapels of his jean jacket. 

And as far as first, unplanned kisses in mildly awkward and questionable circumstances go, it’s a good one. Shane’s still got the wedding dress folded over his arm, the lace and pearls scratching at his skin as one kiss becomes many kisses, too many for him to count, and Ryan feels fairly unhinged being half-naked while Shane has a minimum of three layers on, but it’s good. It’s great, it’s perfect, and when he backs Ryan up into the wall to kiss him harder, it becomes immaculate. 

The icy glass of the mirror touching Ryan’s hot, flushed skin makes him whine and instinctually flinch away from it. But that pushes him up against the entire length of Shane’s body, which is its own brand new, unexpected sensation. It works another whine out of Ryan’s throat, one that is uncontrollable and a sound he’s never made before in his entire life, and Shane must know, must know that this whole situation is making Ryan come out of his skin, because he growls and kisses him harder, tries to devour him right there in the dressing room. 

Both of them freeze when someone knocks on the door of the dressing room, mouths millimeters apart, pursed for another devastating kiss. Ryan opens his to scream, or maybe to swear, and Shane moves the hand wrapped around his neck to cover his mouth without hesitation. It should make Ryan indignant, but it just makes him melt against the mirror, makes his brain go all hazy and pleasant. Shane sees it all as it happens, eyes like a moonless night sky, and he presses down a little harder to watch Ryan melt completely. 

“Is everything all right in there?” a voice asks, presumably someone who works in the thrift store. “I was hearing a lot of commotion while passing by.” 

And because Shane is a fucking demon, can be incredibly smooth when he wants to, he sounds perfectly and totally normal when he responds to the stranger outside of the room. He does not sound at all like he came in here to strip Ryan out of a dress, or like Ryan started rutting up against him in a public store for a few brief, wonderful moments. 

“Oh, we’re fine! My boyfriend got stuck trying something on so I’m trying to get him out of it. Sorry about the noise!” 

The woman is audibly amused when she says: “Oh, it’s okay, dear. Just making sure.” 

Shane waits until they can no longer hear her footsteps before taking his hand off of Ryan’s mouth. Ryan decides, when he is home and able to be naked in relative peace, that he’s going to revisit this newly discovered reason to be obsessed with Shane’s hands and how large they are. 

“Well,” Shane notes, chipper as always, “that was interesting.” 

“Interesting,” Ryan repeats, feeling wrecked in a multitude of ways. “I think the word you were looking for was unexpected.” 

“Sure, it was unexpected, but it wasn’t unwelcomed, I hope.” 

Ryan grins up at Shane through his haze. “Shane, I’ve probably had a crush on you since I met you. If this weird porn intro situation didn’t convince you to fall madly in love with me, I’m not sure what else would’ve.” 

“Ryan,” Shane says, with a grave seriousness, though Ryan is still partially naked and Shane is still clutching an old dress to his chest, “I’ve been madly in love with you since the very beginning. There’s no way that this wouldn’t have worked.”

“Oh, goody. I’m glad it all played out.” Then, suddenly remembering what Shane said to the employee outside their door: “Did you call me your boyfriend?” 

Shane smiles serenely at him. “I certainly did. Don’t tell me I lied to that sweet woman, or that I’ll have to go out there and break the bad news to her.” 

“We wouldn’t want to crush her spirit,” Ryan agrees, butterflies and a pure, radiant love surging within him. “But I think we should probably get out of here before she calls 9-1-1.” 

“Yes, it would be tragic having to spend our first night as lovers inside of a jail cell.” 

Ryan slips back into his t-shirt and jacket, noting Shane’s forlorn expression with a smirk of his own. While he’s fixing his hair in the mirror, he casually lets him know: “If we go buy that dress right this minute and order takeout instead of dining in, I might be persuaded to take my shirt off again.” 

“Is that so?” Shane asks, fixing him with a heated look. 

Ryan pointedly pushes the tip of his tongue into his left cheek, until it bulges outwards. “Amongst other things.” 

The entire store probably hears Ryan’s exuberant laugh when Shane snarls some choice words and drags him out of the dressing room by his jacket pocket like he’s afraid Ryan will disappear if he lets go of him. He just laughs and laughs, and then wraps both arms around the one pulling him along, buries his face into Shane’s shoulder, and starts to scheme what kinds of pretty things he can buy and squeeze himself into to encourage Shane to act this way all the time. 

“Does this make me your Bride?” Ryan questions, when they’re seconds away from reaching the checkout counter. “Since you’re acting like Frankenstein’s monster right now? And because I look hot in that wedding dress?” 

Shane simply turns to him and says, without missing a beat: “Yes, and when I get you home, I’m going to commence Operation Monster Mash, effective immediately.” 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, feel free to come chat about these idiots with me on [tumblr](http://bodhirookes.tumblr.com/ask) or leave prompts you'd like to see me fill!!!!!


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